Random Writings: C is for
by themusicain
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one-shots, snippets and headcanons titled with words beginning with the letter C- I think people are familiar with the concept by now :P
1. Christmas

Christmas

Where possible, the entire family would be together. There were some traditions that had stuck since as long as they could remember: presents first thing in the morning, a massive feast at lunchtime that rendered everyone incapable of movement for the remainder of the day, Virgil at the piano. Since moving to the island, it had also become tradition for someone (usually Gordon) to sneakily lower the thermostat just enough for them to willingly don the Christmas jumpers Grandma knits them.

It was silently accepted that whilst a large portion of the world was at peace, however, there were still people putting themselves in dangerous situations, still storms and quakes and tides that paid no attention to what day it was. There were always at least two brothers who didn't drink at all (they tried to take turns, but Scott and Virgil weren't very good with allowing their brothers to fly their 'birds), and everyone else rarely had more than one or two glasses.

Some years, the day would pass without incident. Others, they would rush from their half-eaten Christmas dinner, paper hats askew, or else spend the day yawning having only returned at five in the morning from a rescue.

The first couple of Christmases after International Rescue began operations, John had been stuck on Five. The first year, he'd agreed, knowing that next year it would be Alan's turn. Grandma had prepared a second feast on New Year's day, allowing John a belated Christmas celebration once he returned to Earth.

The second year, however, Alan broke his arm on a rescue shortly before he was due to switch with John. Normally, someone else would cover the rotation, or John would extend his; but since it meant someone would be on Five for Christmas, no one would agree. Hurt by his brothers' refusal to switch, John had closed the transmission halfway through Scott explaining why he couldn't _possibly_ go up to Five and why Gordon had no excuse, really. He only spoke to his father and grandmother that Christmas, and Gordon, Virgil and Scott had to work hard to make up for that one.

Alan was prepared to do two years in a row, even if he secretly didn't like the idea of being alone in the old tin-can on Christmas day; but John had done it, and it wasn't fair for him to miss out. Alan took extra care throughout November, trying to avoid anything that might stop him from going into space.

He hadn't counted on Tin-Tin giving him the 'flu, however.

John's face had fallen as he took in his baby brother's pale face, blue eyes slightly glassy with fever. He simply nodded, not even bothering to try to persuade Scott, Virgil or Gordon to swap.

Virgil couldn't stand seeing John so resigned. After John's transmission ended, he turned to the others.

"We can't leave John up there again."

"Are you offering to swap?" Gordon looked uneasy, torn between wanting to spend Christmas with his family and feeling sorry for John.

"It's never been the same since we started operations, and it'll still feel weird regardless of who goes up. We need a better solution."

Scott sighed. "We can't leave the station unmanned."

"But what if we could?" Scott raised an eyebrow. He tapped his watch face.

"Brains, can you come up here a minute?"

TB

John sipped at his hot chocolate, grimacing at the watery taste. It was never the same as Grandma's hot chocolate, not as rich, as creamy, as thick. It was just sweetened, brown water that did nothing but scald his tongue; and yet John drank it anyway, hoping that this time, it'd turn out the way he wished. He knew he was due to call home again, but he didn't really want to. The lounge would be festooned with tinsel and ribbons, the tree would be stood proudly in the corner behind the piano, presents stacked underneath. Virgil was supposed to come up at some point with John's- John himself had had to ask Tin-Tin to sort and wrap all his (Tin-Tin's had been snuck away by Virgil for wrapping). Virgil hadn't yet said when, but John guessed it'd be soon; Christmas was only a few days away.

As if reading his thoughts, the proximity sensor began to beep just seconds before the radio crackled into life.

" _Thunderbird Three to Thunderbird Five, come in_."

"Thunderbird Five receiving you. Didn't realise you were coming over today, Virgil."

" _Well, there's been a slight change in plans_."

"Gordon? What are you doing on Three?"

" _Oh, you'll see_." A few minutes later, Three docked.

John opened the airlock to reveal three of his four brothers, a large box carried between them.

"What's this?"

"Your Christmas present." Without another word, Scott, Gordon and Virgil pushed past, heading straight to the console. John was just about to close the airlock when Brains shuffled past, a tablet inches from his nose.

"Brains?" The oblivious scientist continued past. John shut the airlock and strode across the control room, where his brothers appeared to be dismantling his 'bird.

"What are you doing?"

"Just wait and see," Gordon smirked, reaching underneath the desk and pulling at a bunch of wires. John resisted kicking the aquanaut's shin.

"Gordon, stop pulling my 'bird apart!"

"Relax," said Scott, resting a hand on John's shoulder. "Why don't you go make us some coffee, we'll be here a while. And then go pack."

"Pack?" Despite himself, John felt a glimmer of hope.

"Pack," Scott affirmed, dimples deepening as he grinned. "You're coming home for Christmas, Johnny."

"We're installing a, ah, automated m-monitoring system. I-i-i-it will allow you to c-c-conduct your work from the g-ground."

"It's not a replacement for having someone up here," Virgil warned, unscrewing an access panel, "but it's good enough as a temporary solution, enough for you to come home for a bit."

John couldn't speak. He just turned and embraced Scott in a rare hug.

* * *

 **I hope everyone had a wonderful day (even if Christmas isn't your thing). This is actually the most recent of the Cs, but I felt a more Christmassy one-shot was in order.**

 **This is a lot longer than most of the other snippets, and it was definitely a bit tricky to write. Originally, Gordon was going to assist in a birth during a rescue, but if that's not a cliché I don't know what is =P (I'm sure that story'll make it in somewhere else ;) ). For me, Christmas is about family- I spend the whole day with them, a rarer occurrence now I don't live at home, I visit extended family in the morning to dish out presents. I hate the idea of John missing out; he wasn't included in the Christmas episode of the original series because Anderson hated him, but I felt like there needed to be some way of letting John spend Christmas with his whole family in person, rather than over a monitor.**


	2. Cake

Cake

It was cake. _Cake_. What was he supposed to do, ignore the tantalising scent? Force himself not to drool over the rich chocolate icing? Turn away from the small, wispy white chocolate shavings sprinkled on top that were clearly begging him to eat them? Even Grandma's feared wooden spoon couldn't stop him from reaching into the cutlery drawer and withdrawing... a spoon?

Scott yanked the drawer open to its fullest extent, dismayed by the lack of knives inside. She couldn't have hidden them all, surely? Scott quickly rummaged through each and every last drawer and cupboard in the island's state-of-the-art kitchen, even going so far as to check inside the oven, fridge and freezer. Nothing.

The scent of chocolate threatened to overpower Scott, force him to drown in a pool of his own drool, but somehow he kept it together. He went back to the cutlery drawer and withdrew a fork. It was going to be tricky, but if he did it right-

"Scott Tracy!"

Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Scott's head snapped up. His beloved Grandmother, cook extraordinaire and the best baker of chocolate cake Kansas had ever produced, was standing in the doorway, hands on hips, wooden spoon poking from her right hand at a jaunty angle. Scott eyed it warily. He could swear it was grinning at him.

Which was a far cry from Grandma's expression.

The little woman's wrinkled face was grim, her expression saying quite clearly, _put that fork_ down. And yet, Scott thought he detected a glint of amusement in her eyes. Or, more likely, _hoped_.

In obedience to his Grandmother's vicious stare, Scott lowered the offending utensil and returned it to the drawer. He straightened and took several steps away from that tantalising, tempting confectionary that had got him into so much trouble, and raised his hands in surrender. His pride could take the dent. However, he wasn't sure his backside would appreciate the sting of the dreaded wooden spoon.


	3. Crash

Crash

Something had gone wrong.

 _Something had gone wrong._

Gordon gazed frantically at the instruments, trying to work out what was going on as everything went to hell around him.

 _Gordon gazed frantically at the instruments, trying to work out what was going on as everything went to hell around him._

He glanced up at the windscreen, watching as the mountaintop sped toward him, even as he wrestled with the controls.

 _He glanced up at the windscreen, watching as the cliff face sped toward him, even as he wrestled with the controls._

It was too late. He curled himself into a ball, preparing himself for a world of pain.

 _It was too late. He curled himself into a ball, preparing himself for a world of pain._

He thought of his family. He couldn't put them through this pain. Not again.

 _He thought of his family. Would he ever see them again?_

His craft collided with the mountaintop. The screen went dark, and the words _SIMULATION TERMINATED_ flashed across it.

 _His craft collided with the cliff face. Everything went dark._

He forced his breathing to slow. Strong hands pulled him from the simulation chamber.

"Geez, Gordon, calm down," said a voice, another hand rubbing his back, soothing him.

"It's only a simulation," said another voice.

 _"_ _Gordon? GORDON!"_


	4. Calm

Calm

It had been one of the toughest rescues Alan had been on for a long time. It had taken the best part of a day to get those people out from under the rubble, help put up support structures to keep any more buildings from collapsing, and to clear away the mess.

The fires had blazed so fiercely, Alan swore he was melting even through the protective suit he was wearing. Scott had flown again and again over the site, spraying the fires in an attempt to quell them. It had paid off in the end, but only after a few agonizing hours.

There had been a tense moment when Gordon had almost been crushed by an unstable building; he and the team he'd been helping with the support beam had barely made it away in time.

Then there had been the people. For some, it was far too late. Some were so trapped they had to be left for last, whilst they removed as much of the rubble as possible. Others had been relatively easy to get to, but so badly injured that they had to be moved cautiously, as slowly as possible.

Alan let out a huge sigh, flopping into the hammock by the pool. It was almost dawn, and his brothers had gone straight to their rooms, intent on spending some quality time with their beds. Jeff had been kind enough to spare them the debriefing until later.

But Alan couldn't sleep. He supposed there could still be a bit of adrenaline floating about somewhere, but perhaps it was more likely that it was because he'd managed to grab a few hours on the flight back home. Either way, going to his bed just didn't appeal to him.

He'd had a shower certainly; his damp hair was quickly drying in the warm air, although the odd droplet of water still trickled down the back of his neck. He stuck out a leg and pushed lazily, so the hammock swung gently, and he gazed out to sea as the sun poked its forehead over the horizon.

 _Virgil would just love to paint this_ , Alan thought, pulling out his phone and taking a few photos. The sea was so still, there was a gentle cool breeze playing across his face, and the birds were only just beginning to wake up. Alan closed his eyes and concentrated on the rocking motion. He was so comfortable, so peaceful, so...

Calm.


	5. Compromised

Compromised

Whenever John thought about it, he supposed Scott hadn't _deliberately_ gone through a rather impressive number of girlfriends during his teenage years through to his early twenties. Scott had always been a bit of a sucker for the twinkle of a pair of stunning eyes, the flick of soft, smooth hair, and the wiggle of a nice-

John decided to pull his mind out of the gutter.

The point was, Scott wasn't unfamiliar with members of the opposite sex. He was just lucky that way.

And John guessed it also wasn't Scott's fault that some of his old girlfriends had gone on to get jobs in the public eye, mainly journalism.

But journalists had a knack for getting in the way during rescues. They would sneak past the police cordon, try and board the machines, or else stick around until one of the rescuers emerged with a victim, all in an attempt to get the interview of the century- a "friendly chat" with one of the elusive members of International Rescue.

Scott had almost been caught out more times than John cared to count, and only the eagle eyes of his brothers had saved him. But John was sure it was only a matter of time. He was considering stashing a false beard in One.

* * *

 **The secrecy of an organisation set up by a billionaire ex-astronaut and has an Olympic gold medallist and legendary racing driver on its team perhaps doesn't really bear close examination :P but the idea of Golden-boy Scott being the one who nearly gets caught out was a little too fun to resist**


	6. Children

Children

Children were the worst.

When they didn't make it in time, the pale, empty, innocent faces would haunt their dreams for weeks. They would go off alone, silent and brooding, until a successful rescue lifted their spirits. They didn't forget, but they were able to move on.

Children were the worst.

Whoever it was that said, "Never work with children or animals," they were wise indeed. A panicked child would wriggle and squirm and undo the good work done mending whatever injuries they'd brought upon themselves. They would scream so as to set their rescuer's teeth on edge. They would punch and kick, too afraid or too young to understand that the stranger holding them was a friend.

Children were the best.

They would thank their rescuers with wide, toothy (or, in many cases, gappy) grins, and hug them tight. They would tell all their friends about how cool it had been to be rescued by International Rescue, and how one day they would go and join them.


	7. Chocolate

Chocolate

It was the general consensus among his brothers that he must be addicted. And maybe he was. But John didn't care. Chocolate was chocolate was chocolate, and that, as far as he was concerned, was that.

There was nothing- in John's opinion- like settling down with a telescope pressed to your eye, a notebook in your lap, and a mountain of chocolate bars to keep you going through the night as you stargazed. It had started when Grandma insisted he take a couple of bars with him the first time he went out into the fields stargazing on his own. She told him it would give him the extra energy she feared her "delicate" grandson would need to combat the cold, clear night. John had resented her description of him, but the moment the first sweet corner touched his tongue, John decided that being the "runt of the litter," as Scott playfully called him, definitely had its advantages.

Even now, when he was safe and warm inside Thunderbird Five, with his state-of-the-art telescope glued to his face, he still kept a pile of chocolate bars beside him, to munch through as he searched for something new.

And no one, not even Gordon, had been able to work out where he hid his stash yet.

* * *

 **Since tomorrow's New Year and a big family day for my lot, have two snippets today, and a Happy New Year when it comes :)**


End file.
